


Intended

by Rosario17



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, F/M, Grey!Hermione, M/M, Voldemort is NOT Tom Riddle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-01-29 04:11:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12622888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosario17/pseuds/Rosario17
Summary: Hermione Granger is in for the shock of her life. It is her final year when a new tradition is introduced as a part of Voldemort's administration: Semel Septem. One year out of every seven the Dark Lord is to govern directly from the most influential educational institution in the British Isles: Hogwarts. Her new position as Head Girl insures a permanent place in his presence, but so does her next discovery... They share something unexpectedly intimate: a soul bond.





	1. Chapter 1

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Hermione said for probably the fifth time in the last hour. The softly gasped words prompted an eye roll from her blonde companion.  
“You’ve had two months to get used to the idea,” Draco Malfoy scoffed, utterly unimpressed.  
“Yes, but I just can’t believe this is happening!”

Had it been anyone else the young man would not have hesitated in delivering a swift and brutal rebuttal referencing just how similar she sounded to a right ditsy cow. With Hermione, however, he knew he’d regret it as soon as her response came flying back to him. She could be very witty when she wanted to be and he simply was not in the mood to tend to his wounded pride today. So he reigned in his annoyance at hearing those six words yet again and let out a sigh instead.

“You know, for someone who is hailed as the brightest witch of our age your vocabulary is irritatingly bland.”  
“Yes well, we can’t all go through life being unfazed. I’m not reigning in my excitement just to make you happy. I certainly wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth-”  
“- Oh here we go again!” Draco hissed, completely abandoning the mental stride he’d made for peace only a minute earlier. “Can we go one day without you reminding me how much money I was born into?”

Despite the obvious friction between the two... friends... Draco slowed his stride down in order to allow his companion to walk ahead of him as they approached a glass door placed in a discreet corner right outside King’s Cross Station. To the untrained eye it simply looked like a darkened floor to ceiling window, but the two teenagers had been versed through this scenario so many times over the past sixty days. They knew exactly how to get access to the nondescript entryway.

Without the slightest bit of hesitation, Hogwarts’ newly appointed Head Girl performed a quick survey of the area to make sure no attention was being paid to them and mentally thanked the creator of this impressive identification ward for placing the door in a dimly lit corner at the back of an alleyway. Hermione whipped her wand out and ran it down what looked like an unmovable handle. In a flash of dark light she found herself transported to the inside of the station. She only had to wait for a few seconds before Draco Malfoy once more appeared at her side.

They wordlessly continued to walk down an empty corridor leading to the inside of Platform 9 ¾ knowing that they only had a few minutes before they had to be at the train overseeing the welcome of the other prefects then soon afterwards the rest of the student population. Malfoy once again showed his gentlemanly nature by holding open a door to allow her to reach the train before he did. Now all they had to do was wait.

“To be fair,” Hermione said as she came to a halt beside the train, “you’re the one who’s always reminding me of where you come from. It’s subtle, but you do it all the time.”

Draco turned disbelieving eyes to the tiny creature standing next to him. “Are you seriously continuing a conversation we were having ten minutes ago? I should’ve known you’d never let me have the last word.”

“Yes. You should have,” she returned, totally unrepentant.  
“Oh my goodness,” comprehension dawned in the young man’s face. “I’m stuck with you for the rest of the year.” He sunk down to his knees and splayed his hands over his face.

It was Hermione’s turn to roll her eyes. “You say that like I’m not the one suffering here. Maybe you should transfer to Durmstrang.”  
“I give up, you evil wench.”  
“Heathen.”  
“Commoner.”  
“Malfoy,” Hermione began warningly.

Luckily for the young man still on his knees that was the exact moment that their companions began to trail into the platform. One by one, the twenty four prefects began to join the Head Boy and Girl beside the train. They were all engaged in lively chatter, with the exception of the youngest Slytherins, who seemed to be uncomfortable with the group for some reason. In Hermione’s mind she could picture each of the two fifth years having just come from home after enduring a speech from their bigoted parents about not letting their guards down around the ‘commoners’. She let out a light snort, ever grateful for the lack of individuals talented in the mind arts.

She glanced up and grinned at the familiar sight of her best friend Ron Weasley. He was trailing behind everyone else and spared an amused glance at the defeated form of Draco at their feet. “Attagirl, Hermione. I knew you’d be the one to break this lout one day. Although I have to admit, even I never thought it would take five minutes.”  
With a firm hug of familiarity, Hermione smiled bashfully. “I didn’t even try. Imagine if I had. He’d be halfway home by now.”

“Excuse me, Weasley, but I just spent an hour with this harpy. I dare say any sane man would’ve been driven to his knees in half that time.” Draco smoothly accepted a hand from Blaise Zabini as his brown skinned Italian friend helped him up.

Hermione smiled jovially. Had anyone told her six years ago that she’d have some kind of civil relationship with these Slytherins by their final year in Hogwarts she would have dismissed them as the ramblings of Trelawney regurgitated simply to spite her, but here they were. When they were all done loading their luggage Hermione moved to address her associates.

“Alright people,” the tiny Head Girl clapped once to get the attention of the small group of elite students. “I’ve drawn up a roster of patrolling partners. The headmaster wants us to encourage inter-house relationships, so the list is a reflection of that rather than of who we’d actually like to work with. You’ll notice a slight change in the overall structure of prefects. I’d like to extend a warm welcome to our fifth years; to Fay Dunbar taking my place as the seventh year Gryffindor prefect and to our new Head Boy, Draco Malfoy.”

A few cheers followed this statement and soon enough the first wave of students began to flock into the platform. Hermione handed out the schedule, printed on a single sheet of paper with the help of a duplication charm she had tweaked. That was their cue and the prefects set off to corral the students into the train. Hermione smirked as she and Luna set off to help, taking the glares some of the prefects sent her way in stride. It wasn’t her fault the headmaster wanted to mix things up a bit, and she would be damned if she had to be stuck with one of the prefects whose company she didn’t enjoy simply for some semblance of fair play. Being Head Girl did come with some perks, after all.

***

Hogwarts had changed, well the entire wizarding world had to be honest. With the Dark Lord in charge of Europe change was inevitable really. The dark arts, although still undeniably dangerous were now an acceptable art form. In fact, it was seen as laughable if any self respecting wizard was not moderately versed in them. Under Lord Voldemort’s rule Hogwarts’ curriculum had began to reflect on this change. Elementary Dark Arts as well as Defence Against the Dark Arts were now offered to the student body. As a matter of fact, they were each compulsory for OWL students, but could be dropped if one so desired for their NEWTS. Although this change was not really welcome when it was first instituted after the end of the Second Wizarding War, the past decade had seen to its eventual acceptance.

Now with Lord Voldemort’s rule slowly, but surely extending to the rest of the globe the dark arts were not nearly as reprehensible as they had once been. With the fall of Dumbledore, what little resistance had been met against the Dark Lord’s rule was stomped out entirely. The lack of utter desolation the population had expected to come with the charming sociopath’s rule also had a bit to help with that.

It was a pity, Hermione thought to herself, that Neville Longbottom’s death was necessary to bring about the peace the wizarding world had experienced for the first time in... decades. Although she had never met the boy, she had friends who had shared a bond with him. He’d apparently been a ray of sunshine in many people’s lives. She knew, no matter how much wealth, prestige or knowledge the Dark Lord brought into this world, some people would never forgive him for wiping out the entire Longbottom clan.

The man was terrifying. She held a fair amount of respect for him, but the word man was quite the overstatement. Lord Voldemort was rarely ever seen without his hood, but everyone knew what he truly looked like. Apparently having one’s soul split seven times and going through a resurrection ritual brought about the cosmetic effects of one’s spirit animal. Hermione preferred to get all the thoughts that might have her severely punished out of her head before she had the chance to meet him later on.

“You look nervous,” Luna remarked when their first patrol together was complete.  
“I'm fine,” Hermione shrugged.

They did not make using the prefect’s cart a habit. It was usually crowded from the younger ones’ attempts to rub their good fortune in the faces of their peers. A good friend always saved them seats in his; a nice tradition from their second year which hadn't ever been deviated from, even when they happened to settle in their assigned cart for the duration of the journey. Harry Potter was just naturally thoughtful like that. Sure enough, when the girls found their usual rendezvous point he was already there flipping through a quidditch magazine.

After enthusiastic hugs of welcome were exchanged and they all caught up with one another about their holidays, Harry let them rest for a few moments. He knew how tiring the first day back on the job was for them even if they never voiced it.

“Mione, you look tense. Even for you. What's up?” he asked, unwittingly echoing Luna’s earlier sentiments.  
“Nothing! I wish people would stop suggesting something is wrong.” She felt her face heat up in embarrassment at the alarmed look her two friends shared. “I mean I'm fine. Honestly. Maybe a little stressed, but it's nothing I can't handle.”

As forced as the nonchalant shrug she gave them was, neither Harry nor Luna wanted to get their heads bitten off for calling her out on her lie. So they each shot her reassuring smiles, but glanced at each other worryingly when her head was turned.

  
***

The welcoming ceremony was, as always, a breath of fresh air. It felt like coming home to most of the returning students. It would take time, but Hermione knew the anxious 11 year olds huddled in the corner of the room would start to feel the same. Still, they looked even more nervous than the first years she had come across in her time; more nervous than she could remember being. Clearly Lord Voldemort’s impending arrival had the exact effect everyone had foreseen. The students weren't even as rowdy as they usually were on the first day.

  
Headmaster Snape was the last to arrive, but instead of taking the seat at the middle of the professor’s table he sat at the one to its right, while McGonagall was already seated at its left. Hermione and Luna glanced at each other knowingly from their designated house tables when they saw Professors Snape and McGonagall exchange furious, but hushed whispers. Almost on cue, Hermione’s head of house crooked her finger at her the next time she glanced at the High Table. She approached the two authority figures slowly, gesturing to Malfoy as she did so. The blonde ferret wasn’t paying attention, but Blaise was. With a well aimed jab to Malfoy’s arm, both head prefects made their way to the headmaster.

“Good evening, professors,” Hermione greeted politely.  
“This isn’t the time for pleasantries, Miss Granger,” Snape droned sarcastically.  
“It’s nice to see the holiday hasn’t dampened your wit, Sir,” was her neutral reply.

Draco marvelled at how rarely her sharp tongue ever got her in trouble. This was Snape, for goodness sake! Snape. He was the man’s godson and even he would never dare to speak to him in such a way.

“As entertaining as this is, Granger, I did call upon you for a reason.”  
One could almost see McGonagall bite her lip to prevent herself from retorting that it hadn’t been his decision to call them there.  
“The Dark Lord is almost here. Normal protocol dictates at least one knee on the ground, but this is a dining hall so rising on your feet should do just fine. Try to prevent anyone from grovelling, overcompensating, or Merlin forbid from panicking in his presence and everyone should be fine.”

The Gryffindor head of house glared at her colleague. “What we are essentially asking of you is that you lend a hand and comfort anyone who seems like they might give in to hysteria when he is near. You mentioned those muggle techniques to me once didn’t you? What were they called? Calming mechanisms? Teach them to the rest of the prefects.”

It amused Hermione that the headmaster thought he’d conveyed Professor McGonagall’s message with his words earlier. Still, “I don’t know if it’s a good idea to teach muggle theory to some of the prefects,” she admitted reluctantly.

“If anyone objects refer them to me,” the headmaster offered.  
“Or better yet,” Draco smirked. “To the Dark Lord.”  
Hermione chuckled slyly along with the Slytherins, gaining McGonagall’s disapproval. “I’m not sure it’s a good thing, surrounding yourself with these bad influences, Miss Granger. Now off with you. He should be here soon.”

  
***

Lord Voldemort arrived not ten minutes later. Most people expected him to burst in the door with a procession of death eaters, but there wasn’t a lackey in sight. He walked… no… glided into the room like he owned the damn place, which in a way he did. His hood remained drawn up, probably a good thing, considering how many children were in the room, as his form advanced to his seat as the guest of honour. The hushed whispers that had settled over the bright room before his entrance died down completely as everyone stood to pay their respects to their ruler. It was fortunate that enough people had heard Snape’s singular instruction because there were too many rumours of people being cruciated upon sight when they didn’t greet him appropriately.

He took a moment to survey the entire room when he finally stood by his seat before waving a dismissive hand. It was clearly a signal for everyone to take their seats once more. The headmaster took that as his cue to make his welcoming speech. Hermione was sure most of the hall’s occupants didn't hear a word Snape said. It wasn't long after that when the sorting began.

The first student to go through the process was a Gryffindor. Harry recognised the name: the sibling of a fourth year who always required help in his Defence practice. Once she grinned, clearly relieved to be sharing a house with her older brother, the boy wonder clapped maniacally with a few whoops of encouragement. Ever the loyal friend, Hermione joined him, followed by the rest of the Gryffindor table.

A few of the professors tensed up. So did a majority of the student body. When no rebuke was forthcoming, however, everyone relaxed immediately and the sorting continued. Just like that, the tension in the air evaporated and the evening progressed much as it was always meant to. Hermione even found most of her appetite returning and dug into the hearty feast excitedly. The Dark Lord stood up suddenly and held up a hand to signal for silence. The entire room obeyed immediately.

“I expect all prefects to report to the headmaster’s office in one hour. Do not keep me waiting.” It didn’t escape anyone’s notice that these were the first words he’d uttered all night.

For some unknown reason the chilly tone made Hermione shiver, but not in disgust. She chose not to closely examine why it did. Instead she focused on his retreating back and how the faculty rose as he exited the hall. She shivered once again, this time at the mere thought of his glowing red eyes.

  
***

All the prefects were already gathered outside the headmaster’s office before the hour they were given was even up. As if anyone was going to keep him waiting. It did make Hermione wonder, however, if the Dark Lord was going to be sharing an office with Professor Snape for the entire year. A year of no rule breaking loomed ahead of her and that upset her more than she thought it would. There was no challenge in corralling a population of subdued students, but what other option was there? Her head cleared of all thought when the door swung open revealing the headmaster. It was the first time any of them had ever been admitted into the room without having to provide a password.

  
Snape silently let them in only to shut the door behind him on his way out when all twenty-six of them were inside. He had just abandoned them in a closed room with a dark lord! Typical. The room had been magically extended to allow every single one of them to fit practically without being too comfortable. Not that anyone could relax in his presence. They randomly took the seats in front of the large desk when the hood covered head gave a slight jerk of permission. Only Draco and Zabini were brave enough to take the two seats directly in front of him despite it being clear that Hermione was meant meant to take the other.

Those bright red eyes regarded each one of them slowly, making them feel like he was concentrating on them individually and as a whole at the same time, as impossible as that was. Too late, Hermione realised he was performing legilimency on them. This was not a good day to be her. She tried to remember if she had had any thoughts that would be disruptive to her health since she had walked into the room and at that exact moment, their eyes clashed.

It was an electrifying moment. She literally couldn’t look away even for a second, try as she might, try as she did. As soon as his blood tinged gaze left hers she inhaled a much needed gulp of air. It was very distressing. How many people could say they had their breath literally stolen by Lord Voldemort? She assured herself it was all in her head and turned her attention back to the dangerous dark figure they faced.

“Good evening, children,” that cool voice drawled in a decidedly mocking tone. “Let’s make this quick, shall we? Introduce yourselves to me. Nothing too complicated, just your names years and houses. Begin.”

The nerve of the man! He already knew exactly who they were from the thorough search he’d performed on their minds. They all humoured him, though. It was probably one of those sick mind games he was rumoured to love playing. They were not seated in the order he expected of them. That was made clear when the first prefect at the left hand corner began at the Dark Lord’s prompt.

He was a sixth year Hufflepuff prefect. As soon as his house name left his mouth the young man’s chair shuffled him one column above from his position at the very back of the room. In the end, the only ones who kept their original seats were Draco and Luna. He’d arranged them according to rank. It was so glaringly obvious Hermione could have smacked herself for failing to realise it as soon as the first of them was reshuffled.

“Remember your positions. We will meet every fortnight for the next year. It should come as no surprise that I require excellence from all of you so I should make it clear that none of your positions are permanent. If you fail to meet my requirements you will be replaced,” Voldemort said casually. It was the same tone one would use while describing the weather.

“And what exactly are these requirements?” Hermione asked, unable to help herself.  
“Excuse me?” he spared her a glance of amusement, turning the full force of his eyes on her.  
Everyone else in the room blanched on her behalf with the exception of Draco, who just rubbed his temples in exasperation.  
“What are the requirements we have to meet in order to retain our positions?” she reiterated slowly. Had it been anyone else, she would have dubbed them as slow. The slight quirk of his lips told her he’d caught her last thought.  
“I was getting to that. Had you waited you’d know that.”

The slytherins smiled slyly, but it didn’t put Hermione off in the slightest. She had spent her entire life being told to shut up. It never worked.  
“Academically, of course. Every last one of you will maintain perfect grades or-”

The Dark Lord was cut off suddenly as outraged mutters suddenly filled the room.

  
“I will have sssilence!” His hissed exclamation achieved the desired result instantly. “If any one of you ever interrupt me while I’m speaking again, there will be hell to pay.”  
“My Lord,” Hermione peeped silently, knowing she was toeing a very thin line. In her defence, she did wait for him to finish speaking. “Most of us weren’t chosen because of our academic prowess. It seems unfair to-”

  
“Once again, Miss Granger, you assssume too much.” Hermione absolutely refused to think about the effect his hisses were having on her. “There must be something you’re each excellent at or you’re in the wrong place! If you cannot achieve academic excellence, it is up to you to show me there is a reason you were chosen to be seated here. If you cannot find any field to dominate in then just avoid Acceptables. Contrary to their name, they will not be permitted. You’re dismissed. Malfoy, Granger you stay behind.”

Everyone stood up and escaped as if the hounds of hell were at their feet whilst still maintaining an air of order about them. It had to be the first time in Hogwarts’ history for the entire prefect body to receive a mass bollocking, and on the first day of the school year!

The Dark Lord returned his attention to them when only the three of them remained, yet Hermione could have sworn it was solely focussed on her for a minute. She hoped she hadn’t made an enemy of him. That would absolutely take the bloody biscuit. He silently levitated a stack of paper and scrolls that lay next to a thick blank leather bound tome. The collection split itself in the air and floated into both their laps, but Hermione’s ravenous, curious gaze remained on the unidentified book on his desk. She suddenly wished she were in his good graces. Maybe then she’d have the opportunity to leaf through it.

“I trust you two are good judges of character, otherwise Severus and Minerva have failed me. You will go through all of these together and select which, if any are suitable for you. Once that is done you will decide which are suitable for the rest of the prefects. The remainder will be spread amongst the rest of the students. Remember the prefects are top priority.”

Intrigued, the two quickly scrolled through the first few layers in their possession to discover they were all competitions tailored to wizarding schools, ranging from domestic to international. There were too many to take in at this point in time, but Voldemort was clearly very serious about finding excellence in his prefects.

“And Miss Granger, I’ve heard a lot about you. Severus brings your name up a lot. Until today, I’ll admit I thought he was exaggerating as he is wont to do. However, your considerable intellect does not excuse you from offering me the respect that is due to my station. Should you ever challenge me, unprovoked in such a manner and so publicly ever again, it will have a very different ending. Your brain is the only thing that saved you from my wrath tonight. Do you understand? I am your Lord and you will treat me as such. Are we clear?” He hadn’t raised his voice the entire time he spoke to her, his eyes never left her face.  
“Crystal.” She was in no mood to humour him with false titles.  
“Good. Now leave.”

Hermione's chair scraped loudly when she got up to leave. She didn’t even bother to wait for Draco as she huffed out of the room in indignation. He was most likely bowing a farewell to his lord and she could not bring herself to stomach the sight of that of that at the moment.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Draco demanded furiously when he caught up to her a scant minute later. “Literally the only reason you’re alive right now is because of that badge! You’re supposed to be smart, Granger!”  
“Who the fuck died and gave you authority over me?” she demanded, unrepentant. The perplexed look she received was very satisfying. “That’s right, Malfoy. We’re equals. You can’t tell me what to do.”  
“Where are you going?”  
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m going to my rooms-”  
“Which we share.”  
“But I’d rather not walk there with you. Good night!”

  
***

“Today’s been far more exhausting than I ever imagined it would be,” Hermione remarked quietly to Luna as they finished up their rounds in the dead of the night.

Her companion hummed noncommittally.  
“What’s up with you?” the Head Girl asked, slightly worried when Luna didn’t drone on with theories of anxiety inducing creatures surrounding the castle.  
“Did he read your mind earlier?”

She didn’t have to explicitly say who she was referring to. Hermione knew.

“I don’t know. I think so, but how could I really be sure? Why do you ask?”  
“Hermione… everyone froze for like two seconds when we looked into his eyes, but not you. You stared at each other for over two minutes.”

A shaky laugh escaped unbidden from her lips. It had seemed so much longer than that. “That’s ridiculous, Luna.”  
“Are you seriously-”  
“Look! It’s been a long day spent in the company of… Can we just chalk this one up to stress? If it happened to me I think I would’ve remembered it.”  
“I don’t know…”  
“Well I do. Come on, I’m exhausted.

Neither of them noticed the pair of glowing red eyes that followed their retreating forms in the darkness of the shadows.


	2. Chapter 2

For all its academic prowess, Hogwarts was severely lacking when it came to qualified Defence teachers. There was once a rumour that the Dark Lord himself had cursed the position so no one worth their salt would consider even applying for the position. Now that he had control of the Ministry of Magic, however, the curse surely should have been lifted. It was impossible to convince the rest of the wizarding world how true this was when horrendous things kept happening to the unfortunate souls who filled the role. 

Hermione felt quite guilty about adding fuel to the rumours when, in fact, all she had been doing was trying to get even. She did not regret what she had done, by any means. She just wished getting rid of Umbridge would have led to someone competent being hired for once. Alas, all it  _ did _ lead to was Professor Lockheart being rehired. The man was a masochist, as surely as the school board was a collection of overdressed fools. Even Voldemort’s presence was better than having to deal with that man again. 

She had never been truly proficient when it came to Defence Against the Dark Arts. Fortunately for her, she had Harry. The boy wonder was a life saver. It had been impossible not to notice how much of an improvement had been made after an entire school year of practicing with him. Hermione was always one for giving credit where it was due. During a heartfelt appreciative speech to Harry following her first ever Outstanding in Defence she realised how much help the entire school as a whole needed in the subject. When she voiced her thoughts to him only for him to agree, they'd revived Lockhart’s defence club.

The DC was now going into its second year and it made the dynamic duo proud to see how much membership had grown since the last year’s end. The nature of the spells they were learning were quite advanced so it was disappointing for them to have to tell the younger students they would have to leave until a sufficient programme could be set up for them. The headmaster barely let them practice as it was. Seeing a third year carted into the hospital wing because of a spell outside of the school's curriculum would surely be the end of them.

The club was primarily how Hermione had bonded with the Slytherins in her year. Before Blaise Zabini had joined - a full term after it had began, there wasn’t a single member of his house to be found. After a mere two weeks of practicing with a group of people he’d previously thought he had nothing in common with, he slowly began to encourage his housemates to join. Much to Ron’s displeasure a handful took him up on it. Even Draco Malfoy, who had been quite reluctant to have anything to do with the DC ended up among their ranks. Most people thought it was because of peer pressure, but  Hermione knew it had more to do with the fact that she had once let it slip that no one had ever been able to beat Harry Potter in a duel. Naturally, he had taken it as a challenge and shocked everyone when he managed to take his opponent down on his first try. It was safe to say their rivalry was nowhere near finished since then, especially since it was never an easy task to anticipate who would end up on top every time they went up against each other. Still, these days they found it easy to set aside their differences for the benefit of everyone else.

Hermione was shaken, quite literally, from her reverie by a firm hold of her shoulder by Harry’s hand. She found everyone staring at her in expectation, far more eyes than she had been expecting. Embarrassed, she cleared her throat before asking her companion to repeat what he said.

“We’ve just asked everyone below fifth year to leave the room. We’ll get back to them when we form a lesson plan and figure out who will instruct them. So they’re excused, but not without a demonstration. I think they need to see just how dangerous this could be,” Harry repeated with a glance aimed at the youngest faction of the group, who had separated themselves from everyone else by that point. 

“So what are you thinking?” Hermione asked, her bearings once more firmly gathered. “Should we backtrack to the last checkpoint or move on to the lesson that was meant for today?”

“We were supposed to move on to two opponents today weren’t we?” Blaise recalled.

“Two opponents?” a wide eyed Gryffindor gasped. “Is that safe?”

“No. It is not safe. That’s the point of the Defence Club. Safe is Professor Lockhart and his classroom lessons. We’re here to challenge you,” Draco said calmly. “This is only the first phase in batting multiple opponents. The reality is that we won’t always be evenly matched, so this is supposed to prepare us for that.”

Hermione was oddly proud of the little twerp. She knew she wasn’t the only one that thought Draco was not authoritative enough for the role of Head Boy. It was one of the few times she was happy to have been proven wrong.

“We  _ do _ have to take everyone’s safety into account, though. So because of this, we have all been grouped among those of a similar skillset,” Luna said reassuringly to the youngest returning members, although she need not have worried. They were more excited than anything else.

Harry pulled out a list and patiently waited as it was read and passed on to everyone gathered. Hermione did not know how to feel when she saw she had been lumped together with Harry and Draco. After all, Blaise had always been a better duelist than she had. As if reading her mind the boy in question glanced up at her and smirked uncaringly. What a disaster! She didn't want to team up with either of them. They'd be too busy trying to get at each other to actually include her in anything challenging. No wonder the pretty boy was not bothered by it. Knowing Blaise, she wouldn't even be surprised if he was behind it somehow.

“Alright, so we'll take the lead here,” Draco said excitedly. One thing he was not: humble. “Hermione who do you want to pair with?”

No one paid her any attention; so sure were they that she'd pick Harry. She was about to, too until a clever idea popped into her mind. There was way too much animosity between the two for them to work well together. She could use that to her advantage. 

“I think I'd prefer to take the two of you on, actually.”

She proceeded to shoo the gathered audience closer to the walls of the classroom. According to the headmaster the abandoned dungeon space was the only room the school could afford to let their club use. It was a poor excuse, but they had gladly taken what they could get a year ago. It was tradition by this point, and its small size honestly wasn’t noticeable once Theodore Nott took charge. He had always been uncharacteristically artistic with extension charms.

“I’m not dueling you, Hermione,” Draco snorted. 

The tone in his voice was uncomfortably familiar. He had used it relentlessly on her for the first three years she’d known him. If there was one thing Hermione Granger could not abide by it was being told that she couldn’t do something.

“If you can give me one good reason not to do this, Malfoy, I’ll concede. If not, however, just take your position and let’s get this over with. Time is of the essence, you know.”

The sound of various snorts and their muffling was heard clearly among the gathered audience. Hermione smiled cynically. As if anyone in the room could outmaneuver  _ her _ in an intellectual standoff. Ridiculous. The only arguments her challenger had were made of preconceived, prejudiced notions. She could just see how the conversation would go if she had any intention of entertaining it. 

_ You’re a  _ girl _ , Hermione.  _

_ I’m aware. _

_ We’d hurt you. You don’t stand a chance. _

_ Funny, I thought you just said something about this club being a challenge. _

_ But, But -  _

_ Are you done? _

Draco could see it, too. So could Harry. So in what was surely a once in a lifetime move, both young men became perfectly in sync and nodded their reluctant agreements. The rest of the room had taken the Head Girl’s earlier instruction and were still at the edge of the duelling circle. Hermione sighed and took her place at the opposite side of where her opponents stood. 

***

Draco, Harry and Hermione had been circling each other for much longer than necessary. She could tell that neither of the boys wanted to be the first to cast. While it was initially touching, the hesitation quickly began to grate on her nerves. They were treating her like a  _ child _ , damn it! She quickly set off two full body-binds towards Harry nonverbally, knowing they both expected her to dish something out equally instead of divide and conquer. He easily dodged the first, but the second one hit him full on in the chest as he swerved to the right while avoiding the former. Draco gaped at her. Some would think it underhanded, but there was no time to dwell on that. She quickly circled Harry, keeping a close eye on him as Draco mirrored her movements in an attempt to make space between them.

Now that the scales were momentarily in her favour, Hermione knew Harry’s competitive instincts would soon take over. The boy knew some elementary wandless magic and the bind would not hold him for too long. Draco snuck in a stinging hex, which caught her on her arm, doing little harm. In retaliation, she pointed her wand at his upper body and a strong jet of water caught him in his face. The stream was strong enough to catch him unaware, but it was little more than a distraction. The puddle it formed at his feet caused him to slip and fall, landing on his knees. 

Unfortunately for her Harry had slipped out of his bind by that point. An emphatic ‘levicorpus!’ was all the warning she got as she suddenly felt herself hoisted up from the ceiling with her ankles firmly bound. The stubborn witch she was would not let her give in. Hermione silently cast an extended cushioning charm right below her. She then allowed herself to appear defeated as both her opponents carefully approached her hanging upside down form. When Harry, who was the first to reach her, stood close enough she blew into his eyes and watched as his vision was temporarily taken away by illusory stardust.

Hermione cast finite at her ankles and fell to the safely cushioned ground while Harry was distracted with rubbing his eyes, glasses laying on the ground beside his huddled form. Her worried gaze automatically fell on his person. She knew he would be fine in less than a minute, but she could sense his panic from where she was standing and spent a moment debating with herself on whether or not she should comfort him. That slip was all it took for her to lose her winning edge. The Gryffindor did not notice Draco calmly walking towards her with intent while her back was turned; distracted by her best friend’s spike of anxiety. One moment she was staring at Harry’s hunched back, and the next…

“ _ Expulso! _ ”

As fairly trained as Malfoy was, he wouldn’t target her directly. It was a specialty of his to aim it next to his opponent’s figure. The accompanying force was usually enough to knock the target off their feet for a good while. It did not apply permanent damage, but it  _ was _ quite jarring. Hermione wrapped her arms around her face and braced herself for the onslaught of pain that was about to ravage through her, but it never came. The lack of sound made her loosen her stance and glance up at the spot Draco had fired from, only to see an all encompassing shield of  blue shimmering strongly right before her eyes. 

***

“How do we score that?” Theo asked almost two hours later, ever the literalist.

The rest of the duellists had just left, with the younger observers having done so right after the demonstration between Draco, Harry and Hermione. It had taken a good five minutes for the shield to come down after the expulso curse had been cast, after which no one saw any point in continuing it. Theo was obviously not in support of the turn in events.

“It was obviously a draw,” Ron said, clearly anxious to return to his common room.

“Maybe they should go at it again, then. If it really was a draw then the outcome shall probably remain the same.”

“Are you seriously suggesting this? Let it go, Nott,” Harry snipped. 

The remaining handful of seventh year students all glanced at Hermione who was slumped against a desk at the centre of the room. She had been unfocused for the entire session. As far as Theo saw it, the burst of accidental magic had upset her. Even though it ultimately saved her, control was one of the things she valued most. Losing it was not a good sign, no matter how fortuitous the outcome. He sighed in resignation and continued to restore the room to its original proportions as they discussed the next lesson as a group. This practice was routine and went along with the location cleanup. Not once did Hermione’s attention waver from her mindscape. A majority of them shrugged it off. She would have to get over it soon.

Eventually they all left, with only the golden trio and Draco remaining. Luna hesitated on the threshold of the dungeon classroom, her typical vacant stare even more pronounced than it usually was. In the end she left along with everyone else, however. As soon as they were alone the three boys crowded among her and met her frazzled eyes headon. 

“I know what you’re all going to say. And yes I’m fine.”

“That’s good.” Ron never was one to hide his true thoughts.

“Harry, I’m so sorry.”

“Are you crazy? Why are you worried about me right now?”

“Maybe because I blinded you,” she offered drily. 

“Don’t be silly, Mione.”

“As difficult as that is,” Draco piped up. “Granger you were in a duel. No one actually thinks you were trying to disable him.”

“Yeah. You were using stealth because it was your best shot at winning the duel,” Ron smiled encouragingly. “It was very admirable.”

A telltale blush covered her cheeks at this.

“You’re just saying that.”

“Come on. Since when have you known Weasley to be considerate?”

Harry rested a calming hand on Ron’s shoulder before the redhead had a chance to lunge at Draco.

“Why, Malfoy, I didn’t know you cared,” Hermione boasted. 

“Why the hell would I care?” the blush had now transferred itself onto Draco’s cheeks.

“You’re here aren’t you?”

The blond glared furiously at her, then did the same to her two companions who did not even bother to stifle their laughter. Insulted, he stalked out of the room without another word, muttering something along the lines of  _ you ruin everything, Granger _ under his breath.

Hermione watched him go fondly and smiled reassuringly once more at Ron. She could tell he was about to confirm whether or not she really was okay.

“See you at dinner?” he asked hopefully.

“Of course.”

When it was just the two of them remaining her best friend turned to her with those concerned eyes once more.

“Don’t stress about it. Accidental magic has happened to all of us.”

“I know.”

“Are you ready to go? I know you usually hit the library on Tuesdays. I’ll walk you,” he offered.

She shook her head. “Not yet. I still have a lot to think about. If I go now I’ll just burrow it under a stack of books.”

“Alright. See you later then. You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

“I know, Harry. I’ll take you up on that offer someday soon.”

He needed no more encouragement as he ran out to catch up with Ron so they could escape Slytherin territory together.

***

Hermione felt that dark presence as soon as the impenetrable shield had been thrown up. She had been unable to shift her awareness of it since. It made her feel quite silly to realise the only way for the protective barrier to be rendered so hastily was if whoever was behind it had been in the room with them the entire time. There was an intruder amongst them and she knew exactly who it was. How on earth had she missed the aura of darkness that permeated the air? Was she the only one that was aware of it? It certainly looked that way, as obvious as it should have been. For one thing, even on her best, most focused day she would never be able to construct a shield that complex. There hadn’t been a single curse Draco had directed at her in the duelling ring that managed to penetrate the barrier. Secondly, it was not  _ her  _ magic. Oh, it certainly felt similar, but its essence was far darker. 

It felt surreal when she was nestled in that protective cocoon. She could feel how dangerous it was, but at the same time an unmistakable assurance was present along with her. Hermione knew she would not be harmed so long as that barrier was wrapped around her. At the same time, however, she could also  _ feel _ the amount of danger Draco had been in. Thankfully, she’d managed to talk him down into ceasing fire, demonstration or otherwise. She gave a flimsy explanation of how her psyche probably would not calm down enough to let the shield down unless she was completely certain she was in no more danger. No one brought  up the fact that accidental bursts of magic were never so focussed, so intent. The ones whose thoughts  _ had _ been running along those lines kept them to themselves.

Believing Hermione Granger had far more control over her magic than was theoretically possible was a far sight better than knowing the safe haven that was their after school defense club had been covertly invaded by Lord Voldemort. Draco stepping down had not meant the immediate lowering of ‘her’ defences. Hermione’s thoughts circled around the Dark Lord’s presumption of there being a chance she’d be attacked after the duel had officially come to an end. Ultimately, however, she wanted to know  _ why _ the man was doing this. Why was he protecting her? In an afterschool club, no less. It was all very disconcerting. Staying behind was the only way she saw herself getting answers from him. Who knew when next she’d see him again?

As she watched Harry fastrack his way out of the dungeons behind Ronald, the brunette stood slowly and silently began to wave her wand to arrange the desks in their natural order. They had been transfigured back to their original forms while she was spaced out and planning how her conversation with Lord Voldemort would go. Even this was seeped in forethought. She  _ needed _ a good reason to remain, after all. She began to wonder if he would just watch her and let her leave when most of the room’s furniture had been righted. Did he honestly think she believed the tall tale she herself had invented about accidental magic? Hermione sighed as her awareness of him continued to grow now that they were alone in a room smaller than it had been originally.

“I know you’re there.”

Nothing. Total silence in return. 

“You’ve been here all afternoon. I can feel you.”

She turned around slowly to the corner she expected him to be in and was surprised to find a dry chuckle coming from right beside her. It was an uncomfortable reminder of just who she was dealing with. How happy the headmaster would be to learn how out of depth she found herself around this man. It was a feat not many people could accomplish.

“You can  _ feel _ me?” came the gentle hum. “What an interesting choice of words, Miss Granger.”

Her motion to swivel around in order to face him was cut short by long fingers firmly clutching the loose hair at the nape of her neck. He turned her to face him and she felt her mood shift from curious exasperation to annoyance. How dare he! Hermione shot his hooded face a glare as his bone white fingers tilted her head up at where his hidden features were.. 

“You always have to be in control, don’t you?” she challenged.

His grasp tightened imperceptibly, meaningfully. 

“Excuse me?” he hissed.

“This position you’ve placed me in is exactly the one in which I was about to place myself, but for some reason you’ve managed to find a way to do it while causing me unnecessary strain.”

“I see you’ve made no effort to soften your tongue when you’re in my presence, girl.” Unless she was mistaken, there was a smidge of amusement in his tone.

“I apologise, My Lord. The accidental magic I experienced earlier has me acting inappropriately.”

Her glare intensified and turned accusatory. He was a smart man. He’d figure it out.

“Oh? And why are you staring at me like that? Surely you don’t think I had anything to do with this? Why would I want to protect a discourteous, little mudblood such as yourself?”

Hermione tensed up so suddenly she thought she might have a strained neck then next day. She pulled her hair away from his touch and managed to take a step away from him before his grip lowered to clamp around the back of her neck. Immediately, an electric tingle sparked from where his palm and the skin at the nape of her neck met. It travelled down to the base of her spine and caused a slight buzz to crackle the air around them. The static even affected her hair a bit, momentarily lending it an electric texture reminiscent of her younger days. After they recovered from the contact she broke away sharply and told herself that she hadn’t only escaped his hold because he had been distracted.

“Don’t you dare touch me,” she spat.

Somehow she could tell he was about to reach for her again. She hated, absolutely hated, the tiny voice inside her head that craved the same.

“Why did you throw that shield in front of me? I was never in any real danger! Why?” she demanded.

The Dark Lord’s strange red eyes bored into hers. He must have been performing legilimency on her again. She didn’t mind. She had nothing to hide from this man.

“I don’t know.” 

A gape was all she was capable of giving him. That must have been the first time he had ever admitted to not knowing something.

“I don’t know,” he repeated. “All I do know is I couldn’t let any harm befall on you at that moment.”

It was a strange moment. Oddly tender, she would have called it had anyone, but Lord Voldemort been standing before her. Of course, he was who he was. Something had to go wrong.

“What have you done to me?” he hissed spitefully.

He reached for her once again, his hand resting in her hair like it had found a new home there.

“Me? I’m not the one who targeted someone and followed them into an academic environment on some curious whim! Look, this is pointless. I stayed behind to get some answers from you, but if you don’t even know them I’m clearly wasting my time here.”

Their eyes probed deeply into one another’s for an extended moment in time. She had no idea what he had been looking for, but he released his hold on her soon enough without a word. Hermione unsteadily gathered her book bag and was about to finish ordering the rest of the furniture when Voldemort waved his hand to do it for her.

“Thank you, my Lord,” she said daintily and took her leave.

When she got to the door, she chanced one last look at the Dark Lord to find him standing with his arms folded in front of his chest in a defensive stance. Something about him enraptured her every time she happened to set her eyes on him and this last glance was no different. She stemmed the courage to look into those red eyes once more. She just had to for some inexplicable reason.

***

The Dark Lord had been acting strangely since he  had met with the prefects upon arrival. It was not his place to question his moods, so Severus Snape kept his opinions to himself. Still, the man was distracted. It was too much of an unusual occurrence for him not to take notice of it. Maybe, the headmaster told himself, he was just feeling very nostalgic about being back at Hogwarts. Yes, that had to be it. 

Control over Hogwarts gave him the power to alter the castle to his exact specifications. Severus used this to his advantage by crafting an office that was almost an exact replica of his own right beside his. The only way for the public to reach it would be through the headmaster’s office itself. There was, however, a clearance list of individuals who had direct access to it which could only be altered by Lord Voldemort himself. They had just finished putting the final touches to the office together. Apart from the darker decor and the still portraits one really could mistake the room as Severus’s. 

“Severus,” his master called, tone deceptively light. “How often do you peer into the minds of students?”

It wasn’t an odd question. He was obviously after something. That was the only time he ever expressed interest in interpersonal relationships.

“On purpose? Not often, My Lord,” he mused. “Usually only when I suspect them of being up to something or when I’m genuinely interested in their thought processes. The latter is quite rare.”

“Yes, I can imagine.”

The hooded figure leaned back in his plush chair and twiddled his fingers in a show of deep contemplation.

“May I ask what brought this up?” 

“Oh, we are feeling rather intrusive today, aren’t we, Severus?”

The potions master grimaced, but did not bother to apologise, for there was no real heat behind the censure.

“And what of, Hermione Granger?”

“Sir?” Snape sputtered.

“Hermione Granger. I’m sure her thought processes are infinitely fascinating. Have you ever gained access to her mind?” he asked softly.

There were alarms going off in the back of the headmaster’s mind. His lord’s words aimed for nonchalance, but his posture suggested the complete opposite. This was very important for some reason. He decided to go for total honesty, that way he’d probably receive an inkling of what was going on in that brain of his. 

“Why, yes. Upon many occasions, in fact.”

“Full access?”

Snape frowned. “She isn’t naturally inclined to occlumency, if that’s what you’re asking. Yes, full access. Of course, we mean to change that soon.”

The Dark Lord mirrored his frown and gestured for him to explain.

“I plan on teaching her to occlude her mind this term. We’ve been planning it since last year. Unfortunately we couldn’t start sooner because of Ministry bylaws.”

“No, that won’t do,” he huffed.

“My Lord?”

“You will not teach Hermione Granger occlumency, my dear servant.”

“But, my Lord -” 

“I do not want to have to discuss this with you again, Severus. You’ve heard my thoughts on the matter.”

He could tell he was very close to being dismissed. For Hermione’s sake, however, he had to make some kind of attempt to dissuade him from doing this. 

“My Lord what am I to tell her when she comes to me to commence on her lessons? We’ve been planning this for a little over a year.”

Severus Snape did not like to let on how close he and Hermione were. She was a student and that made it unseemly. Some of his thoughts must have reflected on his face for a sudden spike in his master’s aura caused the atmosphere to become foreboding. For a split second there, he had been very afraid for his life. In all the years he had served Lord Voldemort, he had never experienced such a threatening energy personally directed at him, only witnessed its wrath on others. As the Dark Lord’s aura calmed, the headmaster tried to convince himself there was no way Hermione had brought this out in him. There was just no way. Another, more logical explanation had to be at the root of this.

“You will not approach her first. When Granger approaches you for these lessons, tell her what I just told you. Tell her the only way she will learn occlumency while she’s at Hogwarts is directly from me.”

He couldn’t see it, but Snape knew the Dark Lord was grinning. The level of satisfaction in his eyes was too much for him not to be.


	3. Chapter 3

The familiar weight of Madam Pince's glare resting on her hunched form was a burden Hermione fully welcomed at the moment. How else was she supposed to get Harry to follow the one cardinal rule all libraries aimed to uphold? Right on cue, an incensed stream of shushes came hurtling towards the two Gryffindors huddled together at a desk they had commandeered for themselves.

Hermione noticed the less than subtle rebukes were amplified by a couple of Ravenclaws and not just the matronly librarian as she had originally assumed. She didn't blame them. After all, hadn't she just spent the past ninety minutes trying to get Harry to do the same thing?

  
She glared at the object of her thoughts and noted that he at least had the decency to appear somewhat guilty.

  
"Why are you here, Harry?" She whispered long-sufferingly.  
"If I wasn't here you'd spend the entire afternoon with your nose buried in these," he spat disparagingly and delivered a resounding thump to the back of a thick advanced transfiguration text for good measure.  
"Yes. I'm sure it has nothing to do with the fact that your quidditch practice was cancelled," Hermione rolled her eyes.  
"It does a bit," he admitted with a flush to his cheeks. "But you were supposed to come watch us anyway. Consider this me reclaiming my time."

  
"Harry Potter -" she broke off to send an intimidating glare in the direction of a second year Ravenclaw until the younger of the two looked away. "- It's not my fault the weather turned. Besides which, the only thing we could be doing in this storm is imbibing ourselves on illegally gained alcohol. Now I'm all for having a good time, but I simply have far too much to do this weekend to risk the hangover I'm sure to get hanging around you lot this afternoon."

  
It was just her luck that Harry was even more stubborn than she was.  
"That's my point, Mione. We just got back here and you're already running yourself ragged with all these unnecessary extracurriculars. When are you going to get the chance to just relax and be a kid, for Merlin's sake?" He demanded.

  
Hermione recognised his tone of voice all to well. He was itching for a fight. The one thing quidditch was good for in her eyes was its ability to rid Harry of his pent up aggression. She shuddered to think of how much worse he would've been if they hadn't had Defence and the DA to shed the excess energy that past week.

  
"We're long past that phase, Harry. We aren't children anymore," she spat.  
The Head Girl got up to her feet and gathered all her belongings, swatting Harry's hands away when he tried to help her. She saw Madam Pince begin to make her way towards them and preferred to avoid the 'you're setting a bad example to the other students' speech.

  
"Fine, but everyone needs to rest. Even you. You're only human."  
By this point he'd given up the charade of attempting to maintain a level of volume acceptable to the few students around them and followed his best friend as she sauntered right past the librarian, who even on her worst day would never result to something as ungainly as speaking out loud in her place of business.  
"I'll rest when I'm dead, Harry. Now, come on!"

***

In retrospect it probably wasn't one of her best ideas, but Hermione knew she'd never get any work done with Harry hanging around her like he seemed determined to do. As it was he'd already managed to deter her afternoon studying. So she'd picked a fight with him, deliberately riling him up so he'd walk away. What she hadn't expected was the shouting match that had occurred between them, or the genuinely hurt feelings on either side. Now she'd gotten her wish, but it was at the expense of her peace of mind. Life was a fucking joke.

  
Every now and again Madame Pomfrey needed assistance in brewing potions for the infirmary. Hermione spent the next couple of hours after her fallout with Harry brewing draught of peace and pepper up potion. The stores were sorely depleted of one and in desperate need of the other, according to the matronly nurse. She hadn't said it expressly, but the Head Girl was quite certain the only reason Madame Pomfrey even wanted the former was Dark Lord-related. No matter, the brewing gave her something productive to do. She made use of an empty classroom in the dungeons. It was the perfect distraction.

  
She'd always been particularly adept at pushing down her feelings in the attainment of a specific goal and that was precisely what her upcoming evening session with Professor McGonagall was about. Her head of house had approached her over their first weekend back to ask for her assistance on a personal project. A highly esteemed professor - one of her personal heroes - had asked for her assistance. It was something out of a dream. So even though she had more on her academic plate than she ever had before, Hermione leaped at the offer. The professor had even offered to credit her name in the final publication. It was the perfect chance to make a name for herself and she was not going to mess it up.

  
The older woman was looking into the development of a healing transfiguration spell and needed a competent arithmancer to aid her. The many layers and facets this involved were an instant attraction for her. Hermione was all too aware of transfiguration occuring at a subatomic level, but had never imagined it being applied to the reparation of say, failing organs or minor healing. To say she was intrigued was putting it mildly. She was to spend the evening being briefed on all the research her professor had carried out thus far in order to carry out the necessary arithmantic equations.

  
At some point while she was musing on her role in the upcoming project, the heat from the two bubbling cauldrons had reached sweltering levels. The young lioness pulled out a pin from her massive mane of brown curls and transfigured it into a hair tie. She pulled her long locks into a high ponytail in lieu of casting a cooling charm and continued to work on the two potions in front of her. She was so engrossed in her thoughts and the tasks in front of her that she failed to notice the sound of the classroom door clicking and swinging open until she heard the familiar Scottish brogue tsk at her.

  
"There you are, Miss Granger!" Professor McGonagall called out from the teacher's desk in front of the room. She let the litter of scroll and parchment she'd been cradling so carefully drop gracefully onto the wooden surface then turned her attention to her star pupil once more.

  
"I was hoping we could do this in my office, but once you failed to turn up thirty minutes after the time agreed upon, I realised I'd have to come looking for you. " The older woman held up a hand when Hermione opened her mouth to - predictably - apologise. "Luckily enough, Poppy mentioned something about you assisting her brewing yesterday. It wasn't a wild guess where you'd be after searching the library."

  
A small grimace broke out on her face. What a way to validate how supposedly boring her existence was when a sum up of her possible locations was stated out loud to her. Thank Merlin Harry hadn't borne witness to that.

  
"I must have lost track of time," she replied apologetically as she glanced at the delicate silver watch adorned on her wrist. "I'm so sorry."

  
Her apology was waved aside instantly. "Never mind that. Fortunately for us, this first meeting is just to brief you on my research so far and to bring you abreast of the arithmantic work already undertaken. I don't understand much of it," she admitted reluctantly. "But no further steps can be taken until you grasp it all. There's also the possibility of you changing your mind on being a part of it once you've been caught up."

The confusion she felt must have reflected perfectly on her face.  
"You wouldn't be the first arithmancer to quit on me. I'm afraid the development of this spell poses somewhat of a moral quandary."  
How fascinating. No mere academic challenge, but a dark one.  
"Am I at liberty to ask who the others were?" she asked curiously.

  
Hermione might have been mistaken, but she thought she saw something along the lines of fondness reflected in her professor's eyes.  
"Unfortunately not. All I can tell you on that matter is I need to recruit someone I trust for this. There aren't a lot of people adept enough to carry out the work; let alone those I find trustworthy."

  
That was quite a large admission coming from Minerva McGonagall. It was one that ascertained her full participation, as well. If she didn't know any better, Hermione would assume it was a tactical move on her part, sly old woman that she was.

  
"Now, do finish up with your brewing. We've only got an hour or so until dinner, after all. It's just enough time to discuss anything major."

  
She returned her attention to the potions and began to strain the pepper up into several bottles as the draught of peace softly simmered to completion. Even with her hair up, the humid air was quite pervasive. She once again decided to forego the cooling charm. She was almost finished, after all, and she'd regret it when the dungeon chill began to take over once more.

  
"Really; Miss Granger! A tattoo! How thoughtless of you."  
Hermione turned her attention to her head of house once more and regarded her strangely. "A tattoo?"  
"A tattoo! What were you thinking?"  
"I don't have a tattoo, Ma'am." Was her eyesight perhaps failing her? Was she in need of stronger glasses?  
"Your neck. Your neck, you naughty girl!." She lamented, completely oblivious to the panicked expression the harangued Head Girl currently wore. "Oh, I suppose everyone must rebel at some point, but a tattoo? And on your neck, no less!"

  
She took a step closer and inspected the inky blemish on the nape of Hermione's neck. Professor McGonagall clucked her tongue disapprovingly when she noticed it was a green and black tinted image of a snake.

  
"I sincerely hope this isn't some misguided attempt at proving your infatuation with a Slytherin."  
"Professor, I've never had a tattoo done in my entire life!" She instinctively brought her fingers up to the back of her neck to brush against it self-consciously.

  
A gasp escaped the other woman as she saw the snake become animated the moment her skin made contact with it. It wiggled around excitedly and Hermione must have felt it somehow, because the moment she snapped her hand away in shock, the little snake returned to its stationery pose. Her big brown eyes widened in panic and she looked imploringly towards her professor for help of some kind.

  
"Stay here, Granger. Stay right here!"

  
Faster than she had ever seen her move, faster than she even thought it was possible for a woman of her age to move, Professor McGonagall fled from the room in a mimicry of the panic Hermione felt, while the young lioness only looked on helplessly.

***

By the time Minerva returned to the classroom, she had a very reluctant Headmaster in tow right behind her. Neither of them were expecting the calm collected witch who waited for them patiently. Both potions had been strained and bottled, awaiting collection from a house elf for the infirmary. What alarmed them, however, was the sight of her interacting with the mobile tattoo with the aid of a mirroring charm. She looked positively enraptured with the thing.

As Hogwarts' two most senior staff members stepped closer to the disturbing sight, they realised her index finger and the snake head end of the tattoo were currently engaged in some sort of alternating cat and mouse chase. She was exploring it and it in turn her. Clearly she had been unaware of its existence until Minerva had pointed it out.

  
Hermione snatched her hand away from the nape of her neck self-conciously when they approached her, but then protectively brought it back to block their view of her blemish when Snape tried to make a closer inspection. He simply scowled at her and brushed her offensive hand aside.

  
"I'm sure I don't have to tell you that a key element in providing a diagnosis is actually taking a look at you," the Headmaster snarked.  
"I'm sure I don't have to tell you that you aren't qualified to provide a diagnosis. Not that it matters, as this is not a medical issue."  
"Thirty points from Gryffindor for your insolence, Granger. Now hush."

  
The headmaster brought his own fingers to the mark on her neck and rubbed on it gently, but it stayed stationery. He did not relent, however, until the girl actively began to squirm away from him.

  
"Does it hurt?" He backed away after noticing how uncomfortable she now appeared to be.  
She shook her head in the negative. "It just makes me feel very uneasy."

  
If possible, his face set into even more grim lines than they'd been previously. He tasked his colleague to try to replicate the movements he'd just tried, all to no avail. Yet as soon as Hermione made contact with the mark it began to writhe about once more.

  
"Has anyone touched you - er, that is the nape of your neck recently, Miss Granger?" It was absolutely hilarious, how reluctant he was to ask that question.  
"Of course not!" That was an intimate gesture. She'd remember if someone had actually had the audacity to - and then she did. She remembered.

  
Lord Voldemort.

  
A few days ago he'd grasped the hair at the back of her neck to get him to meet his gaze in a chauvinistic power move. How could she have forgotten? The ensuing feeling of electric current flowing between them must have resulted in the image she now had stamped on her neck. How dare he? How bloody dare he! Hermione looked up into Snape's eyes. She could have slapped herself when she realised he'd been privy to her epiphany. And he was not pleased.

  
"Oh, Miss Granger," he groaned gutturally. "What have you done?"

***

"I resent that. He cornered me in an empty classroom and marked me, quite against my will may I add, and somehow it's my fault? I absolutely resent that!"

  
"Cornered you? From what I gauge, you lagged behind specifically to confront him. And why? Because apparently, in your mind, curiosity trumps self-preservation!"

  
Hermione flinched. As terrifying as Snape was, she'd never heard him raise his voice in anger like that. More than anything, she wished they'd started their lessons in the mind arts. It had been pathetically easy for him to uncover secrets the secrets she closely held.

  
"I can't even oversee your tutelage in occlumency and legilimency. He expressly forbade it," he laughed bitterly.  
"Excuse me? Why am I only finding about this now?" she demanded.

  
"The only way you'll learn to occlude your mind is under his direction. I knew you were foolhardy enough to accept those terms, but I never actually expected you to have already formed some type of bond with him. Merlin, girl! Where was your head?"  
"There is no bond. Are you even listening to yourself?"  
"I realise this may be distressing, but if you continue to take that tone with me, Granger you'll have more to deal with than a reluctant bond."

  
He'd clearly emphasised the word bond just to spite her.

  
"Now that you've both calmed down," Minerva said dryly. "Is anyone going to fill me in on what exactly is happening here?"  
"It would seem that the mark on Miss Granger's neck was placed there by none other than The Dark Lord."  
"But why would he do that?"  
"Take a wild guess, Minerva. At any rate, I don't think he's even aware of its existence."  
"You can't mean ..."  
Snape's hand scrubbed down the length of his face tiredly. "There's only one way for a marking of that calibre to occur naturally. This is actually happening."

***

Dinner was a lengthy affair. Hermione spent the entire time imagining what horrors awaited her after she left the Great Hall. The Headmaster had scheduled an audience with the Dark Lord and the only reason she still had her wits about her was because she'd managed to extract a promise from both McGonagall and Snape to stay with her. She was not willing to risk being alone with him.

Had she had her way, she would've spent this time finding out exactly what it was she'd gotten herself into. A natural soul bond, he'd said. What little she knew about them suggested that some kind of ritual had to be performed for two separate souls to form a link. At the very least an exchange of blood. She'd never come across any references of it occurring naturally. Wasn't it just her luck? The man didn't even have a complete soul to begin with!

  
The sound of feet shuffling on their way out of the entrance broke her out of her tumultuous thoughts. She realised she'd been picking at her food absentmindedly for the entire meal and hadn't even bothered to exchange any words with her housemates. It was very unlike her and the concerned glances sent her way completely went over her head. Naturally, word had broken out about her argument with Harry and most people assumed that's what caused her gloomy state.

Hermione glanced towards the teacher's table, only to find He had already taken his leave. No one ever left before he did, anyway, she recalled. Her momentary absentmindedness aside, she made her way over to stand in front of the Headmaster. Without a word, both he and McGonagall stood up in unison and led the way to his office upstairs.

  
The dark potions master waved distractedly at the plush seats in front of his desk upon entry into his office. Both women took him up on his wordless offer while he paced in front of the roaring fireplace in an agitated manner. They watched him, fascinated, as he bared his forearm and pressed the tip of his wand to the Dark Mark that had just been revealed.

Personally, Hermione had never actually seen one up close. There was a small part of her that was itching to step closer to Snape so as to better explore the visage before her. Her lips lifted in a bitter smirk when it occurred to her that they had both been marked by the same wizard, albeit with an element of deliberation involved on his part. It seemed to her The Dark Lord needed to get a new hobby. Something that didn't involve going around marring the skin of others.

  
"The next time you wonder how you find yourself in situations such as these," Snape spat. "Please redirect yourself to your current thought process."

  
She couldn't muster up the energy to respond to him so Hermione settled for a discreet rolling of her eyes. The Headmaster suddenly jolted forward and snapped his fingers impatiently, gesturing for them to rise. They'd been given permission to enter the snake's pit. He hesitated for a moment, mouth open uncertainly. He was about to say something, she was sure of it, when he changed his mind at the last second and instead rested a comforting hand on her shoulder.

  
"Just remember, Miss Granger, that you are not alone." Professor McGonagall's fiercely spoken words were offered on both their behalves.

All of a sudden her Gryffindor courage returned to her full force. Sure, an underlying level of fear was still present, but there was no way any harm would befall on her with these two by her side.  
Right?

***

"Misss Granger. You came."  
The Dark Lord's ever present hood was fixed firmly around his face, keeping his features ensconced safely in its shadowy depths.  
"My Lord. I wasn't aware this meeting was optional."

  
She took a seat before his looming desk alongside her professors after they each offered differential bows. Who needed one this large anyway? Surely it was an intimidation tactic. She could tell the Headmaster had registered her thought after a seemingly unprecedented scowl settled across his lips.

  
"Oh, no? I would not force you to take on my tutelage in the mind arts, little one. If that is the only reason you're here then you're free to leave."  
Little one. Why did that sound so good to her?  
"That's not why we're here." Although it did rankle her quite a bit that the wizard in front of her assumed he had any say over her life whatsoever. "It's about the snake on my neck."  
"I don't think I follow." He sounded amused. In what world was this funny?

  
"There's a mark of a snake on my neck. I hadn't noticed it until Professor McGonagall pointed it out earlier this evening, but it formed on the exact spot that you-" Hermione broke off, unable to finish that sentence. It had nothing to do with the fact that the memory would bring forth the feelings the contact had brought with it; no. It was just embarrassing to say out loud, especially in a room with her professors.

She looked towards Professor Snape, who was doing an amazing job of not letting the shock her thoughts incited reflect on his face.

  
He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "My Lord, an identifying mark appeared on the nape of Miss Granger's neck after your encounter with her this past week. It also becomes animated every time she engages it with her touch."

  
The following silence was deafening.

  
"Well, little one, it seems we have much more to discuss than originally anticipated. Leave us."  
Both professors stiffened in their seats.  
"My Lord," said Minerva. "I cannot allow a student of my house to undergo this without some form of supervision."  
Undergo what?

  
The chilling laugh Voldemort let out held no mirth in it whatsoever. "I'm sure you have better things to do than act as a chaperone tonight, Minerva. That aside, this chain of events has already been set in motion. There is nothing your presence tonight will achieve."  
"It is unseemly. Miss Granger is too young to-"

  
"That mark would not be upon her person if she were too young. The implication that I'd bring harm to my intended is not appreciated, so I will ask you to tread carefully. Now get out, both of you."

  
Professor Snape had to grip McGonagall by the arm to prod her into rising up. Hermione was sure if it weren't for him she'd continue to put up a fight. She grasped the older woman's hand and squeezed it firmly.

  
"He won't hurt me," she said with much more conviction than she felt. "Please have copies of your research scrolls sent to my rooms so I have something to distract me when this evening finally comes to an end."

  
Just like that, the stubborn, proud Gryffindor relented. A sparkle of warmth glinted at her from the older woman's eyes. What was the house of lions if not brave?

***

Only a fool would turn their back to a predator. Hermione Granger was no fool. When Voldemort got up to his feet to casually walk behind the chair she was seated in, that was her cue to rise to her own feet as well. She was too slow, though. As soon as she had her face turned to his slithery form, his hand shot out to caress the snake imprint he couldn't even possibly see from that angle. Annoyed with the warm flutters escaping her skin where it met his stroking thumb, she brought her own hand up to his wrist to push the unwelcome grasp off.

While the sensation their skin contact brought with it had been greatly diminished when his hand once again clasped the back of her neck, it returned tenfold when her fingers failed to encircle the entirety of his wrist. The sparks subsided slowly, too slowly for her liking, yet still he managed to keep hold of her neck. The slow strokes from his cool fingers had not faltered once. Didn't she affect him the same way he did her?

  
"You called me your intended. What does that mean?" It was a sluggish whisper. She'd let her guard down around him in less than two minutes alone in his company.

  
"Our souls are connected. They are one. You were put on this earth for me, little one." Voldemort sounded very pleased with this turn of events.

  
"How long have you known?" _I belong to no man_.  
"Believe it or not," he let out a genuine chuckle. "I found out this evening. So you've known longer than I have."

  
"No I haven't. Professor Snape wouldn't even tell me until he told you. I knew some kind of bond had formed, but I assumed..."  
"That I'd foisted it upon you unknowingly? Do give me some credit."  
"You're the Dark Lord," she reasoned. Surely that was the only argument she needed to provide in reference to his immoral proclivities.

  
"And as said Dark Lord, what sense would there be in slinking around instead of just going right for what I want? No, this bond is completely natural, you'll find."

  
She tried to step away from him. His infuriatingly intoxicating scent was making it hard to form completely coherent thoughts. Of course the overbearing wizard didn't let her move an inch.

  
"Well what do you expect me to think? Apparently you've been going around trying to control aspects of my life from the shadows. It certainly sounds like you knew."

  
"My dear, it's called following one's whims. I wouldn't be where I am today if not for following my instincts. They're always correct. Something told me to keep a close eye on you, and look where we are now."

  
Hermione could practically feel the satisfaction radiating off him. She went completely still when his hooded head glided down to where her neck and shoulder met. He was inhaling her scent, none too subtly, at that.

  
"No matter," she forced the words out of her suddenly dry mouth. "How are we going to get out of this?"

  
His head jerked away from her neck at the same time his hand tightened painfully around the back of it. "Pardon me?" A low, dangerous hiss.

  
"You don't actually expect me to commit to this? You can't!"

  
"Even if I were going to entertain the thought of letting you go ... Hermione, which I do not - it's an impossibility at this point. You touched me of your own volition," he broke away to look towards the skin of his wrist which was slowly, imperceptibly darkening. "You have marked me, just as I have marked you. Dispense with these thoughts, for they will lead you nowhere."

  
Voldemort brought his hand to the top of his head and ripped the hood away from his face. She was offered an unimpeded view of the man who ruled a good chunk of the wizarding world with an iron fist. Her gaze took in his chalk white complexion, slid down to the slits he had in place of nostrils. She gazed at his thin lips, so thin one might assume they were non-existent, at his deep blood red eyes. Transfixed. Fascinated. Hungry.

  
"You took your hood off," she murmured dumbly, unsure what to say.

  
The Dark Lord smirked, tightening his grip on her even further. "Yes. If you're going to spend the rest of your life looking at this face, you might as well get used to it."


End file.
